


Hello, World

by Blue_Five



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Hints at suicide, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-29
Updated: 2013-10-29
Packaged: 2017-12-30 21:34:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 875
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1023629
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blue_Five/pseuds/Blue_Five
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What Dean found after Castiel's voicemail ...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hello, World

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Something Human](https://archiveofourown.org/works/989098) by [Annie_Is_A_Contranym](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Annie_Is_A_Contranym/pseuds/Annie_Is_A_Contranym). 



Dean realizes that in all his days as a hunter … dealing death, granting life … he had never felt the yawning chasm that opens up when he slams through the door into the small bathroom. 

Dean guesses that Castiel had done a little research … found the best way to keep the blood flowing after the cut.  The water is still warm when Dean plunges in to grab Castiel and pull him out.  The motionless weight of his friend knocks him backwards onto the tile floor.

“ … nonononononononononono … “ The never-ending plea to stop the inevitable spills from Dean’s lips.

The phone lies on its side, dropped the minute Dean had assessed the scene before him.  Dean hears his voice – hoarse, like he’d been screaming – begging someone to send help, to tell him what to do, to make the hole in his heart go away.

Dean hears his name but he doesn’t look up.  Strong arms pull Castiel away … Dean holds even tighter.  He sees blue uniforms, hears shouts and sees lights reflected on the wall.  He loses his grip on Castiel and then he’s stumbling backwards, falling to the floor that’s been painted pink.  Dean thinks that’s an odd color.  Why would someone paint a floor pink?

He asks Sam that question when his brother’s face is suddenly in front of his own.  He wants to know why the floor got painted pink.  He wants them to put it back the way it was – no color at all. Before.  Before he opened the door and saw his angel … someone starts screaming and Dean wants them to stop.  It’s too loud in this small room.  Someone turns off the too bright lights.

* * *

Dean wakes.  Sam’s eyes are there, looking tired and red and so very worried.  He blinks. 

“Did you put it back?  The floor?  Don’t let them paint it again … don’t let them change it.”

Sam’s eyes spill over with tears.  “Dean … “

“My fault, Sammy … he’s gone … my fault … all of it …everything … should have left me in Hell … should have … never should have pulled me out … angel … “

Sam gently cards through Dean’s hair and murmurs a soft soothing sound.  He’s still crying but a smile twitches against Sam’s lips.  Dean wants to be angry at that – he’ll never smile again, he knows.  He’ll never do anything again that he doesn’t remember the gravelly voice that could do such things to him.  He’ll never look at the sky without remembering blue eyes that were always a little sad, a little confused – a lot more of both lately.  God help him if he ever hears the flap of a bird’s wings – he’ll probably go out of his fucking mind.  He shakes realizing his angel … _his_ angel – the one that marked _him_ with the fire of his grace – the one that came on God’s command to lay siege to Hell with his brothers to lift _him_ out of Hell – _his angel is gone._

Dean bites back a sob and then registers that Sam is still talking to him.  He focuses but the words are like ancient Enochian – they make no sense, his brain refuses to even try to understand.  Sam’s large hands are framing his face, forcing him to look at the hazel eyes that mirror his own.  The shaggy mane Sam calls a hairstyle bounces as his little brother says his name over and over again.

“…Dean! Dean!  Come on, I know you’re there … Dean, listen!”

Dean winces as the words come swimming to the surface of his hearing.  Why is Sam shouting?

“Dean … he’s alive … you reached him in time … Dean, please … Castiel. Is. Alive.” Sam says, his voice dropping an octave from emotion.

Dean starts laughing and then crying and then he doesn’t even know what the hell is happening to him.  Sam just holds him like the big girl he is – and Dean loves him for that.

* * *

Blue eyes open hesitantly and focus on hazel ones.  The silence is deep and wide but this time Dean steps off the cliff first.

“Hey, Cas … welcome back.”

“Hello, Dean.”

“Do that again and I will fucking end you myself, am I clear?”

“Dean … I cannot …”

“People do it every damn day, Cas – you get up and you _try._   It’s all any of us _can_ do.”

“It is so hard … I’m not …”

Dean leans in close to the face he never ever wants to see pale and slack again.  “You fucking idiot … you said there was nothing there for me – wrong.  _Everything_ was there … fucking _everything_.”

Castiel regards Dean and hears the unspoken words.  It surprises him because it is like angel radio only … deeper … more profound – ah, there is that word again.  A word that describes everything he has seen and learned in his time with the Winchesters … with Dean.

“You are the best thing I’ve ever known,” Castiel says, repeating his words from the voicemail.

Dean presses his forehead against Castiel’s.  Soft romantic words were never his strong point but he smiles and answers.

“You’re better than pie, angel.”

The true laugh that burbles out from Castiel’s chest – the one that means he is truly amused and, better yet, _gets the joke --_ is _exactly_ what Dean wants to hear.  The world is not so empty after all.


End file.
